On Fitzroy’s Ship

i’m at an interesting stage in my life. the structure of my youth — the schedules, the classes, the hierarchical progression from one grade to the next, from one school to the next — is gone. i’ve been thrust from this cozy nest with a soothing security blanket into a cold, unforgiving world. it’s frightening.

i think, at this point, we humans compensate by creating structure to simulate the comforting environment of our youth. we crave structure because its limitations and discomforts are preferable to the alternative: the unknown. as a result, we show up to the office at 8 and leave at 5 and seek promotions. this gives us a routine sense of progression. we feel as though we’re moving forward. or, at the very least, we know exactly where we are.

the problem with this structure is that our adult institutions do not tailor their hierarchies to the individual — it is up to the individual to fit into the mold. humans can progress and improve within such a system, but they cannot flourish. greatness does not come from fitting into the mold. greatness demands an individualized progression that begins with stepping onto Captain FitzRoy’s ship. we must deliberately reject the lanes of the highway for the horizon of the sea — this is where we find greatness. for it is only when there are no structures in place to direct (distract) us that we are able to turn our focus inward and allow our true self to navigate.